


Salt On The Air

by ambersagen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Arranged Marriage, Dead Claudia Stilinski, Fluff and Humor, Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Good Parent Melissa McCall, Good Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Good Peter Hale, He has a plan, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, No particular time period but vaguely Austin-esqe feel, Nobleman Stiles Stilinski, Pirates, Sea Captain Peter Hale, Sneaky Stiles Stilinski, Steter Secret Santa, Steter Secret Santa 2019, The Stilinski family is a little confused but they have spirit, and Peter is just along for the ride, but not really, mentions of Derek/Kate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: The smile Peter returns him is teasing, yet somehow inviting him in on whatever joke is being played. "Well, perhaps someday you shall sail out yourself to see all the oddities of the world. I assure you, fish eggs are tame indeed compared to many a meal I've eaten in far lands."At the other end of the sparsely populated hall someone laughs, loud and sudden, but the pair don't startle in the least, absorbed as they are in each other's company."Hmmm. Maybe I shall. Someday." Stiles agrees, eyes watching Peter with the same intensity he had observed his gift of moments before.(summary edited)
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 186
Collections: Steter Secret Santa 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpookyMiscreant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyMiscreant/gifts).



> My Steter Secret Santa gift to lacrossepapi over at tumblr. I hope you like it! This is a little different than anything I've tried writing before but the idea jumped out at me from your request list.

_"_ _The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore."_

— Vincent Van Gogh

~~---~~---~~

His father is getting married. It's the talk of the town, the long lonely widower who struggled to raise his son and never took another look at the fair sex is getting married at long last to Widow McCall. It had been a match years in the making, and while of course no one could ever replace his own dear mother in his heart, the younger Stilinski was happy for his father. 

"We always did talk of becoming brothers, and now it's finally happening," Scott said, the boys both looking over the gardens where various tradesmen were hard at work with wedding preparations. Overgrown grasses and flowers that had been left to run wild for years after the loss of Lady Stilisnki were now receiving some much needed attention, and it had only taken one instance of a very alarmingly red faced gardener chasing them off before the two young men decided that the project was best observed from a distance. 

"I know my father looks forward to us all becoming a family in name as well as spirit," Stiles replied, gazing serenely out on the scene.

Perhaps it was a simple slip of the tongue, a thoughtless use of words where usually all to many thoughts were contained in his speech. Either way it suddenly hit his companion that his friend and soon to be brother had never said whether he himself was looking forward to gaining a new mother and brother. 

Unaware of the newly troubled look on his best friend's face, Stiles Stilinski continued to watch the workmen in silence. 

~~---~~---~~

_"Family is difficult, but the love feels sweeter when you have fought to keep it," Peter said in jest, receiving an elbow in the side from young Derek Hale, recently kidnapped by pirates and held for ransom until his uncle had managed to sail forth to free him, much to the chagrin of Admiral Argent, who was much displeased at having to bring his own pirate daughter to trial at last upon her capture._

_"I imagine fighting together against villainous sea pirates is quite the bonding experience," Stiles said with a laugh, wine glass in hand. "My father's idea of a good time spent as a family usually involves more map making, sheep herding, and argumentative farmers, than daring sword battles. or manhunts across rolling waves."_

_Several people toast with a titter of cheers, the crowd genial with good food and wine at hand. They appreciate the tale, and Stiles appreciates the tale teller a little more than he perhaps should. He hides what he worries might be actual longing behind his glass, keeping his stare studiously on the younger Hale man as their friends tease him into better spirits._

_"Well, I'm sure it is as equally terrifying to be between two angry farmers and the hedge that may or may not cross over property boundaries as it is to wrestle your misplaced nephew from the clutches of a very buxom lady pirate." Peter says with a wink, and then a groan as Derek elbows him yet again with more vigor. Poor Derek hadn't enjoyed his brush with pirates quite as much as his uncle, it seemed._

_"Queen's mercy, Derek," Peter complains, holding his ribs. "I was just being polite. Poor young Stiles here is in dire need of an adventure and I am offering fair warning against liaisons with strange women met on dark docks."_

_"You're more suspicious than all the lady pirates on any docks, you old pervert," Derek mutters into his glass, and Stiles laughs at the offended look on Peter's face, aware that he has failed to deceive the older man, who tips his own glass to the boy with a ghost of a smile and a thoughtful glitter in his eye._

~~---~~---~~

"You've been shut away in your room often of late, Stiles dear," Widow McCall, or Mrs Melissa, as she is more commonly and lovingly called by the present company, comments over breakfast one morning, passing over a plate of biscuits and watching with a keen eye until Stiles takes at least two. "Is there anything on your mind? I hope you know you may always confide in me. Even your father's handsome wiles will not tempt me to become his tell tale."

"Oh no. There is nothing much bothering me, or at least nothing of much importance," Stiles replied, debating over sausages or ham for the morning. "Just some correspondence I've been working on. You know how it is, best not to put off writing or it all sort of piles up forgotten."

"Or lost, or confused for another letter altogether leading to a year long vendetta against your neighbors!" Scott interjects as he grabs a slice of bread off the other man's plate with a playful grin. "Best let him get it done, mother. Before something more interesting and dangerous catches his attention!"

"I see," Melissa sighs, disappointment in the slump of her thin shoulders. "Well, if you ever need to talk..." She trails off, leaving the question hanging in the hope that the young man will take the opening.

"Of course I will let you know," Stiles says absently, forgoing meat and quickly downing his biscuits with a few playful smacks toward his friend before rising from the table and bidding his future mother farewell.

With another, heavier sigh, the Widow leans back in her seat, breakfast suddenly less appetizing in light of her new concern. 

~~---~~---~~

_"Caviar from France," Peter says, holding a small jar full of sparkling red to the boy, who takes it with fascination. "To be eaten with pâté on the best crackers you can find, or alone on a silver spoon. It's quite delightsome."_

_"But fish eggs? Really?" Stiles queries, turning the jar this way and that in the light. "Whatever will the French think of next?"_

_Peter is tan and glowing from his recent trips, and Stiles cannot bear the sight of him for long before his face turns as red as the small, perfect spheres that glitter like rubies rather than shine like the fish they might have become. The thoughtful and adventurous taste of far away lands that he has been gifted._

_The smile Peter returns him is teasing, yet somehow inviting him in on whatever joke is being played. "Well, perhaps someday you shall sail out yourself to see all the oddities of the world. I assure you, fish eggs are tame indeed compared to many a meal I've eaten in far lands."_

_At the other end of the sparsely populated hall someone laughs, loud and sudden, but the pair don't startle in the least, absorbed as they are in each other's company._

_"Hmmm. Maybe I shall, someday." Stiles agrees, eyes watching Peter with the same intensity he had observed his gift of moments before._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so sorry for the delay on this. I got sick in Jan...sick through Feb....then covid happened and we all know that song and dance. Anyway, I am finishing this up best I can and hopefully it will all be posted by tomorrow!

"There you are, son," John Stillisnki says, approaching the young man who sits in the window seat staring quietly out at the rain. In this light, with the flickering patterns reflected through the water, John is struck by how much his son looks like his late mother. The one thing he had in his looks from John was his angular face, but the dark hair, soft and gently curling at the tips, the dusting of beauty marks across his skin, those were all Claudia. 

"I feel like I haven't seen you for days." He tries, again, to engage his son, hopeful that he can receive some reasoning for the boy's absence that will put his growing worries to rest. Stiles makes no response however, not even an indication that he had heard him speak, and his father shifts nervously on his feet. "The wedding preparation has us all busy I suppose. I hope they haven't disturbed your studies too badly? All this fuss is really too much considering nothing will change but the legalities of the family name."

"True. Yet a wedding makes it all real, doesn't it?" Stiles remarks, still staring out the window, untroubled by the fog that covers most of the glass. "A wedding is a symbol of change, if nothing else.” A slender finger is idly tracing circles in the condensation growing on the glass’ surface. “We all must wait and see, pray it's for the better."

His father has nothing to say to that, and they both are silent as the rain falls heavily on the graveyard spread out over the grass below their viewpoint.

\---

_"I am sorry for your loss," Peter says, and Stiles knows it to be true. Peter's own young wife and child had died only months before the now late Lady Stilisnki. He still wore his deep mourning blacks, no ornaments or even flash of wealth to be found on his person. Yes, Peter knew his loss and was sorry for him._

_"She is barely gone and yet I miss her so much it's painful to breathe," Stiles says, and then he cries, ugly heaving sobs that are not soothed by the strong hand on his shoulder, but rather encouraged by it's easy support._

_“I know words must seem empty to you at this time.” Peter says, trailing off into a silence uncharacteristic for the man, and Stiles knows there is something behind his words. Something he wants to say, perhaps some wisdom Peter wishes to offer but knows would be unwelcome in the face of bitter grief. But Peter, for all his hard earned wisdom, does not know everything._

_“I always welcome any words of yours, Peter. Compared with many others, well meaning though they might be, I have much respect for anything you have to say.”_

_The man sighs, but there is a hint of a smile on his face. “Well then. My advice to you is to find your strength and stick to it. Whatever is in your heart, be it family or labor of the mind and body. Find that something and anchor yourself in it. Grief never passes, but rather ebbs and rises with whims sometimes unclear even to the most self aware. Let us comfort you without fear of losing face. Don’t let grief drive you to solitude.”_

_Stiles considers this advice to come from experience, and his heart aches for the man._

_"_ _And you, Peter? Is that something you would consider again, the chance to have a son or daughter, a loving wife to comfort you?" He feared the answer,_

_There was grief still, despite what others said about the man's cold countenance. Such grief was plain, to Stiles at least. He too hid his grief behind what masks he could build in the presence of others, to keep his family from needless worry about him when they too were suffering._

_"No, I think fate made her opinions on that matter clear." The older man gave a self depreciating smile. "Besides that, I would worry. There is no easy choice, to bring your family to the sea and all her dangers, or to leave them, abandoned essentially, at home for years on years. No, I would not take another wife, although I admit I do occasionally desire the comforts of a companion."_

_"We are not a comforting family, but they do try."_

_"I don't know, you seem to have skills enough. I feel exceedingly comforted._

_"Well, that may be less due to any skill on my part and more that we are kindred spirits, you and I. And I have always liked you, Stiles. It pains me to see you upset."_

\---

"You want to make a will?" Lady Lydia repeats back at him, concern tight over her very pretty face. "While I usually encourage all my friends and clients to be as prepared as possible I do feel as if i should be asking, are you quite well, Stiles?"

"Perfectly healthy," he says, and then pulls out several documents. "And I don't know that I need a will exactly. I am looking for a transfer of estate. An exchange of assets, specifically my inheritance."

"Goodness. I see you are serious." She tuts, taking the papers from him. "Well, you know you have my full support in whatever you must do to secure yourself and your future. You're my friend after all."

"Of course, Lydia," He smiles at her. "I just want to set the record straight. The wedding has changed things, or will soon enough after all, once my father officially adopts Scott."

She gives him a look over the reading spectacles she will deny needing to her dying breath. "Hmmm, I see. Scott is older than you, is he not?"

"By a year at least," Stiles confirms, serene smile on his face. "Don't worry so, Lyds. I just want everything to be clear and as hassle free when the time comes."

"Oh Stiles," She reaches out to pinch his cheek, just a tad too hard. "I am always worried about you."

\---

_It happened as he knew it always would. He smoothed down the crinkled edges of Derek's letter, rereading the lines as if they might magically change into better news. Peter was off to sea once more. He would, in fact, already be aboard his newest vessel sailing out to destinations unknown long before the letter had arrived at the landlocked Stilinski estate._

_Stiles sighed, tucking the letter safely into his lock box, the click of the key as he turned it reassuring him that everything was safe and sound. There was no point in moping about the news. Peter was always to return to his sailing, just as Stiles was always bound to serve his name and estate, to look after his father and to be a dutiful son._

_What foolishness, to be so afraid of what such a life might throw at Peter, and yet to be so bitterly jealous of the chance that Peter has to live such a life._

_A sharp knock at his door reminded him of the day's chores. He brushed his hand longingly over the top of the box that kept all his secrets as his father hollered at him from the hall._

_“Boy! Get your head out of the clouds. We have many acres to check over before luncheon!”_

_He leaves the box, tucking the key safely into his pocket._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is desperately trying to be OOC on me so I hope it's readable XD See you next chapter lovelies!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ho guess who's not dead? Mostly at least. Just thought I would get this posted as I struggle with life. Also, if you are following my other wips nothing is abandoned! It's all still being updated....eventually. Hugs for all you lovely readers.

"We need to speak to him about all this," Melissa said, voice hushed as the three convened in the large drawing room. "He's withdrawn, barely speaks, only eats when reminded." She fanned herself nervously, expression drawn as the two men nodded gravely.

"We haven't been out riding, or even for a turn about the estate since the wedding announcement. I don't think he's taken Rosco out of the stables himself for a month at least," Scott confirmed, whole body drooping with the weight of the pronouncement. "He doesn't speak to me of what troubles him. I only know that he is forever locked away in his rooms writing and fretting over something."

Such behavior was unheard of for the younger Stilinski. There had never been a mood, from highest good humor to deepest grief, that had ever stopped the young man from endlessly chattering about whatever was on his mind. His bad moods could be pegged each time simply by the nervous energy that drove him restlessly from room to room, and out of doors when he was bothered. For Stiles to be quiet, to sit and brood, well. Something was very wrong indeed. 

"He does get obsessed," John offers, pensively. It wasn't much talked about, but Claudia too had often experienced long periods of low spirits, and such had been passed on to her son. "The doctors specifically warned against letting him spend too much time in his own head lest he take a turn for the melancholy." John pressed sun worn knuckles to his forehead, willing himself to think of some way to bring his boy back out of his own mind. 

"He must know this changes nothing," Melissa said, voice rising just enough in her distress that the two men reached out to her. "I always saw him as a son, and I thought," She paused, overcome. "I felt for sure that he saw me as family. He cannot think we mean to replace him in your affections, John."

"I do not know for certain that our upcoming union is distressing him. I only know he is worried about something, and that it does indeed relate to the wedding." He took her hand in his, placing a tender kiss on it. He could not imagine a world where his son would not rejoice at finally, truly calling them his family. "It's merely servant's gossip that he feels slighted by our marriage. After all, it has been so many years and indeed we have long been as close as blood could ever be."

"We should just ask him!" Scott said, throwing up his hands in despair when the two elders shushed him. "We know nothing but what our experience and idle gossip tells us. Why can we not just be done with it and be direct? Surely he will not lie to us if he is greatly distressed."

The elder two exchanged knowing looks.

"Darling, Stiles would for certain lie to our faces if it meant his father's happiness." Melissa said gently.

"Or the happiness of anyone in this room," John insisted. "No, whatever gossip might claim I cannot believe he does not wish us to all be family in name as well as heart. If it meant giving up something of his own joy to keep us all together at peace Stiles would do anything, even lie to our faces."

The groan of old hinges had the group tensing and looking toward the parlor door.

"Oh," Stiles said, seemingly startled at the sight of the group all staring at him, his steps faltering for a moment at their combined attention. "Good morning. I'm afraid I slept in today. You should have sent someone to rouse me," he scolded, walking past the group, unaware of the tension between them. "Has the mail been delivered yet? I had hoped for a letter soon."

"No, not yet I don't think," Melissa said, being the first to rally and sensing a possible opening to get some answers for their worries. "Is the correspondence in relation to any particular project of yours? We had noticed you've been somewhat absent of late."

"Hmm, no. I'm not waiting on anything in particular. Only hoping for a distraction." He waved vaguely. "The weather has been too poor of late and no one seems inclined to host a party when the chances of mud sucking down carriages is so high." He sighed, rolling his eyes as if becoming trapped in a carriage surrounded by mud were a ridiculous thing to be concerned over. "Lydia promised to keep me informed on the gossip in town, but I suppose she hasn't had a chance to write yet."

His back had been turned to them as he pulled a few books from a shelf, so he missed the way the whole group perked up at the mention of his on again, off again lady friend. They exchanged significant looks. True, it had been years since Stiles had written his last sonnet for Lady Lydia, and both of them had since sworn that they would never be more than friends. But perhaps he was melancholy because of his lack of romance? The three looked at each other, all coming to the same conclusion. It must be a romantic melancholy, likely triggered by the scenes of romance now coming to fruition in his own close family. 

"Well, if that is the case," Melissa said, a relieved smile overtaking her countenance. "Then I will have the servants call for you the moment the mail arrives. If indeed Lady Lydia has sent no news then perhaps we can come up with some ideas of our own. I can see no reason why we cannot be the source of entertainment if our neighbors fail to provide!"

Stiles smiled, stepping forward to press a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you very much, dear Melissa. Always looking out for me. I'm sure something interesting will turn up soon. But you know how terribly impatient I get." He stepped back, waving to the books under his arm. "I will endeavor to distract myself and not pester anyone over my restlessness. I'll be in my room if the mail does arrive."

They watched him leave, heaving a collective sigh as the door closed behind him. 

"Well! That's a relief then!" Scott said, dropping into the closet chair with a groan. "He's just lovesick again, easily fixed with a few balls and some socialization."

Melissa sighed, looping her arm around her soon to be husband's arm. "Is it really so simple? He's been lovesick for Lady Lydia before without so much gloom."

John leaned in to press a second kiss to her hair. "Sometimes the plainest answer is truly the correct one. This we can fix, and if he isn't feeling better after our attempts then we shall question him further. Let's not beg trouble and instead be grateful he isn't angry at us. I fear what retribution he would cook up if he had reason for a grudge!"

Somewhat mollified by this exchange the family break to go about their day, each thinking of little ways to entertain the mopping boy as the urgency of the situation fades.

\--

_“You must promise me that you will deliver it safely. It is of greatest importance, Derek.”_

_“Greatest importance,” Derek repeats, unimpressed. “A letter to my mother, who, until this day you have barely spoken ten words to beyond good day and farewell, a letter to my mother is of greatest importance to you.”_

_“Yes.” Stiles met his eyes, defiant and steady. “This letter contains many things of great importance to me, and should anyone besides its intended recipient delay or read it I fear all my hopes will be ruined. Will you do me the favor of delivering it or not?”_

_The big man stared him down, expression thunderous to any who was not well acquainted with the many facial expressions of Derek Hale._

_“You owe me.” He grumbled, taking the letter and carefully tucking it into his saddle bag._

_“I do not. You owe me many more favors than this, my disgruntled friend.” Stiles smiled at him, the relief in his eyes speaking the gratefulness his teasing would not allow. “Ride safe sourwolf.”_

_“Stay out of trouble little red.” Derek returned, and with a light nudge to the mare took his leave._

_Stiles did not move from his spot, watching motionless until he could no longer see horse and rider._

\--

“Letter for you sir.” The woman said with a small curtsy, placing his lunch and a plate on which rested a cream colored envelope onto the table by his hearth. Stiles felt his heart jump up to his throat at the sight of it. With a smile and hands that trembled ever so slightly he took the envelope from the tray, breath catching at the familiar whorls of the Hale seal in red wax.

“Thank you. If you could let the family know I am feeling indisposed and that they shouldn’t hold supper for me I would appreciate it.” He said, tucking the letter to his chest and giving the woman a small nod to her acknowledging curtsy.

He locked the door behind her, taking a moment to rest his burning face against the cool wood of the door. This was it, the answer to all his plans and schemes. Collecting himself he hurried to his desk, pulling out the small blade that would slide so neatly under the seal to reveal his fate.

He read the letter, then read it again. Legs turning weak at the words he fell in a daze into the armchair by his small fire. A smile stretched across his face as he laughed softly to himself, the sound odd in the otherwise silent room. It was all agreed upon. Talia Hale had even sent the contract he had requested, all prepared to his specifications and their negotiations.

“At last,” he breathed to himself, covering his eyes with a still trembling hand. “But...I should not worry everyone. Better to surprise them.” He nodded along to his own murmurings, mind already setting on the route he would ride and the supplies he would need. “Tonight then. And soon we will all be happy.”

He had to believe so.

\---

“What do you mean he is gone?” John cried out, his rage and disbelief cowing the man who stood before him, hat in hand as he bore bad news.

“He road out last night, took his favorite horse and told us to be at ease and not to expect his return without a letter.” The man said, wringing the hat in distress as John paced the length of the room in agitation.

“And he gave no indication as to where he was headed?”

“Not a bit. He was in a fine mood, no indication of melancholy or distress, sir.”

The door flew open, Scott entering with a grim look. “The doorman says Stiles has recently received the correspondence he has been so desperately waiting for. Whatever was in the letter most certainly spurred his disappearance now.”

“But you say he did not seem upset? For him to leave now, of all times, and after so long spent wandering the house like a ghost...” John trailed off, falling into his seat.

“Try not to think the worst,” Melissa said, a forced calm about her. “If it is as we fear; if he has run off in some fit of melancholy, then we will find him and set him to rights. If we must postpone the wedding we shall. If something more sinister is afoot I am sure we can uncover it.”

“We will find him John,” Scott said, determination in his spine. “We have people out questioning what direction he left in as we now speak.”

“Sir, if I may,” a young woman asked timidly from the doorway. “Young master Stiles received a letter yestermorn, I gave it to him myself. But,” she paused, eyes dropping to the floor. “That was not the first letter, but rather the last of many. We, that is to say some of the women and I, were under the impression that he was perhaps corresponding with a lover. He was mighty worried about receiving and sending his correspondence without interference, but so happy when the letters arrived. We thought there was no harm, and he has been so sad of late it was a gladness to see him smile.”

“A secret lover?” John mused to himself, finding some semblance of calm as he was now presented a target. “So we weren’t so far off then. But to what purpose is he keeping his interest a secret? He knows, surely, that we would not mind if the lady were below him in rank and station.”

Melissa gasped, her calm finally cracking. “Is it possible they have been indiscreet? Could he have gotten his lover with child?”

“I would deny it. He has always been so much more aware of the realities of the world in that respect than most of our companions,” Scott answered. “If his lover is Lydia then for sure I would rule it out, but perhaps with someone less steady headed he might have been careless.”

“If he was being blackmailed he would be less happy to receive the letters. I would love to claim my boy is too clever by half to be conned into marriage for his money, but he has a soft heart under all his wits.” John sighed. He wished desperately that Stiles had not road off without a word. Why could he not have left even a note with an excuse for his absence and any hint of his destination?

“Oh I do hope it is not that.” Melissa fretted. “A child out of wedlock but born to a loving relationship can be fixed with a wedding and careful mending of their reputations, but I don’t want to think of how destroyed he would be if it were all a trick and not truely for love.”

“Oh my,” all heads turned as Lady Lydia Martin paused at the entryway, an apologetic looking doorman announcing her with a slightly tremulous “Lady Martin here to visit the young master” before he beat a hasty retreat.

“It seems as if I have interrupted something,” she said, taking in the scene of distress before her. “I can come back another time. I simply thought it would be prudent to deliver these documents in person.” She stepped into the room, drawing a pile of papers from her bag. “You never know who might snoop when using a courier, and I pride myself on thorough discretion when it comes to my clients.”

“Lydia!” Scott exclaimed, being the first to snap out of his shock. “You must tell us, have you spoken with Stiles? He has run off and we had been praying you would know of his destination, if it wasn’t to visit you.”

“Lady Martin, forgive us.” Melissa begged, as John stepped forward to take the offered papers. “You have come to us at a dreadful time, but perhaps you can offer us some clarity to our troubles. What have you brought?”

“Oh dear,” Lydia looked sorry indeed as she passed over the papers. “I can indeed say I met with Stiles this very week, but I’m afraid you will not like the reason why, now that he has gone and done something obviously foolish, as he _swore_ to me he would not.”

“Then he is not with you.” Scott drooped where he stood. He had been so sure that Lydia was the secret lover. 

But she only shook her head in conformation. Wherever Stiles was headed, it was not to her.

“This is a copy of his updated Will. Including all the recent changes he has made to his inheritance. I’m afraid he has forfeited all his rights to the property, in favor of Scott McCall taking his place as John Stilinski’s heir.”

The papers fell with a muffled thump to the floor as John staggered, barely making it to his favored armchair before falling into a faint.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is at last

“Stiles.” Reserved and dignified, Peter still had that layer underneath the persona he showed to the world, a welcome that warmed Stiles from his toes to his head.

“Admiral Hale,” he responded coyly, taking the hand Peter offered as he passed off his horse to the stable hand. He was pleased to find his own grip didn’t tremble and give away his thoughts. He was far to close to the end to survive bungling it now.

“Please, no titles. They make me feel as if I am on the job.”

“Well, many say this is a business transaction, of sorts. Do they not?” Stiles asked, falling into step as the older man led him indoors, and he imagined that he felt the lightest touch of the man’s hand to the small of his back, guiding him.

“Oh?" They took the steps up to the mansion slowly, neither wanting to rush their reunion. "And is that your opinion on the matter? Are you here to strike a deal?”

The weight of Talia's letter sat comfortingly heavy in his pocket. His deals were already struck. This was about collecting on it now. 

“Why not mix business and pleasure? You cannot tell me there isn’t something enjoyable about a job well done.”

“In that case, let us get right to business,” Peter said, a twinkle in his eye. So much of the man was as Stiles remembered him. Sure as truth there were new wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and Stiles could imagine he saw the touch of gray beginning to streak through the still thick hair at his temple, yet still he was as alluring as he had ever been. “There’s much to discuss and my sister had a somewhat alarmingly large pile of documents to sign. After you.”

\--

After a search of Stiles’ room finally revealed that not only had he taken his most precious items, but that he had left a list of instructions regarding the storage and or redistribution of his personal belongings—as if he had no plans of returning for them for some time—it fell on the sensible shoulders of Lydia to rein in the distraught family.

“Wherever he has gone, and with whatever intent, we cannot know until your men come back with news of his destination,” she said, firmly corralling the two men back into the parlor as they fumed and swore dire retribution on both their wayward family member and whoever had secreted him away in turn. Melissa had taken a seat on the long couch, and was now laying with a cold damp cloth over her eyes. “We cannot afford to run off half cocked right now, especially as Stiles did not.”

Scott snorted, finally giving up his restless pacing to sit next to his mother, taking her hand in his own to rub it comfortingly. “He certainly did plan ahead, didn’t he. At least there is that comfort. He must not be so out of his mind if he still behaves in such a Stiles-ish way." Scott let out an explosive sigh, his frustration unhiden as his mother squeezed his hand back in comfort. "Imagine planning such a thing, disinheriting yourself to run off to be wed in secret to a mystery person. Goddamn him. Always so dramatic.”

“If he manages a secret wedding before we catch up with him I will be putting him over my knee." John vowed. He couldn't imagine a scenario where they might not ever catch up to him. "No sneaky legal work can un-make him my son.” He gave Lydia a dark glare, which she met with an offended sniff.

Whatever retort she might have given in defense of herself was interrupted by one of the groomsmen, and finally, a name.

A lad had been paid a pretty penny the night before the departure to send off a man ahead of the young Stilinski to the estate of one Talia Hale, in order to announce his imminent arrival.

—-

Horses were saddled in record time, the carriage called up as fast as the entire staff was able to ready it.

There were no hysterics, but many servants looked unhealthily pale as the news spread through the staff like wildfire.

The young Stilinski was renouncing his title, cutting himself right out of the family he felt replaced by, throwing himself on the mercy of some mystery person, whom he had sold himself to in order to flee the country entirely in bitter melancholy.

No one could say to what end the mystery person had ensnared the lad, but it was a cruel plot indeed to make the boy believe himself unwanted and cast aside by his father who truly loved him dearly.

As the family set out at fullest possible speed all members of the household staff found themselves sending wishes and prayers into the night for a happy ending to this scandalous plot. As the carriage disappeared from view the gathered servants too dispersed. There was a wedding to put on hold, until the wayward son could be collected back into his family’s loving bosom.

—-

The Reserve, the sprawling, thickly forested estate that had been occupied by the Hale family for generations unknown, bordered a decently large town. This town was just barely large enough to boast just enough shops to have a little bit of anything a body might desire, alongside several dignified buildings of civic importance. It was outside just one such building that a pair of well dressed gentlemen paused to enjoy a private moment. They had only just cheerfully waved off their companions, the priest departing down the road while the magistrate retired back into the old building, leaving the pair to their own designs.

There was nothing about the their actions that seemed to justify the sudden breaking of the comfortable afternoon peace as a furious group entered the street and made for the men with dangerous intent. 

"Stiles!" John yelled, dismounting almost before the carriage has rolled to a halt. "Son, step away from this man at once and com-Hale?" 

The shock on his face was such that Stiles stepped forward, hands outstretched to steady the man as he stumbled to a halt, his enraged charged ended by the confusion of the scene before him. 

"Father, what are you doing here?" Stiles cried in alarm. Scott and his mother exited the carriage in a rush, but the eldest Stilinski was already yelling. 

Stop this immediately!” John had regained his voice, face turning red as he stepped forward again, brandishing his walking cane like he would beat Peter off. But he was cut off by Melissa and Scott having caught up. Lydia trailed behind the group at a more sedate pace and Stiles and Peter watched with bemused shock as the entire party burst into shouts, each seemingly uncaring if they could be heard or understood over the others in their rush to air their grievances."

“Don’t worry, Stiles. We’re here to save you!" Scott bellowed, almost frantic with determination.

“You must know, I would never let John propose if I thought it was just to replace dear Claudia-" This from Melissa even as Scott continued, " Nobody will force you to give up your fortune!" “-and I would never accept being the one to push you out.”

John meanwhile looked to be almost in tears, though whether from rage or sadness it could not be said. “Son, you are my life. And while I want us all to be a family, there is nothing I would put above you. We will delay the wedding until you feel more at peace with it.”

Stiles turned to Peter, face frozen in horror and eyes beseeching, but Peter simply began to laugh, causing the whole group to finally end their tirade in shock. 

“Oh no, darling. You’re going to have to explain this one on your own. I’m starting to feel like quite the pirate, abducting and whisking you off to some dreadful end. Also I seem to be missing important pieces of the story as I don’t actually know what the issue is here except that it seems to be quite grievous according to your family. Walk the plank my dear.”

“Well," Stiles faltered, then huffed in exasperation. "First, put down that cane father. I only just got my husband and I won’t have you breaking him after all my hard work.”

“Your husband!” John was aghast. So they had been too late after all. But he had not been expecting this, not at all. That their unknown antagonist was a long time family friend was almost too much to comprehend. 

“Yes. Husband." Stiles was calm, his face still holding hints of joy at his recent union even as he started down his raging family. "We just finished signing the papers. I didn’t want to steal your spotlight so we had a private exchanging of vows yesterday.”

“We were planning on having the big party in a year for our vow renewals. My darling sister threatened a fit of hysteria if we set ourselves against a big ceremony altogether.” Peter said, rolling his eyes. But his voice held nothing but fondness, and he still held tight to Stiles’ hand, absently brushing his thumb over his husband’s knuckles.

“I will do _more_ than threaten a fit." John swore, face a thunderstorm. "This is madness, and I will not let you take such advantage of my son. You will dissolve this union now.”

"Father!" Stiles cried out, aghast at the demand. "How can you say such a thing? Absolutely not, and I forbid you from ever speaking in such a way to us again. I won't abide it."

John turned to him, determined to make him see reason. “No, please son. I know we have done wrong by you letting it reach such a state. But I will not let you throw away your life in grief.”

“I won’t take your inheritance." ” Scott announced, eyes flashing and jaw clenched. "I would rather die than kick you out of your own home and I cannot believe you ever thought me capable of such a thing.

“Oh good lord,” Stiles wavered, pressing both hands to his face. “Scott, father, NO."

He was ashamed, but that was nothing new to him. He always did have a habit of jumping in feet first. "I have really mucked this all up. What a disaster, and a tragic and mortifying end to all my careful planning. You have it all wrong and It’s all my fault.”

He took a deep breath. He saw Lydia give him a small nod, and Peter was a solid presence at his side. He could fix this, if only he could find the words.

“I want this, more than anything," he started, straitening his spine and looking them all in the face. "Scott, you love the estate in a way I never could. I only want the best for it, but you must know I have always resented being tied to the work. I would have done it, done my duty and my best by it, but I would have been unhappy all my days to never have seen anything beyond my home." Scott was beginning to look teary eyed, but Stiles persisted. He should have said this sooner, and he was determined to make himself understood now. "I leave it to you, knowing you will thrive with the work. You are the best hands for the job, and so also the most deserving of its rewards and benefits.

He paused, but there was the other side of this coin, and his dear husband deserved an explanation. "Peter, I thought for sure it was no secret, my feelings for you. It has never been in doubt in my mind, even when I doubted we could ever be more than dear friends.”

“But Lydia?” Scott asked, his face adorably confused as he turned to Lydia, who only sighed and shook her head. 

“Really Scott? Sometimes flirtation is just flirtation." She made a vague gesture at all of them, or the world at large. "We are young, and what is a safer way to have fun than to tease your friends? I have no desire to marry and Stiles had his eyes on another. We kept each other good company this way for years." She stepped forward, embracing her friend, and Stiles gladly hugged her back before letting her retreat with a smile. "Stiles, congratulations. I wish you the greatest joy in marriage. And you Admiral Hale, you had better take care of him. If anyone could find a way to fall overboard on a calm sea it would be Stiles Stilinski.”

“Is this true?" John asked, voice finally normal volume again and his rage calmed considerably. "You truly have wanted this for so long?”

“Father. Please don’t think I love you any less because of this. But I have loved Peter since I was old enough to love, and he has agreed to love and cherish me in return.”

“Sir, it is true." Peter's gaze, although often calculating and cunning with the tactical genius that one must acquire to reach the rank he had achieved was now earnest, and almost kind. "For years I, much as your son, have held such high esteem and affection for him in my heart that I thought could never be returned. But you know your son is a stubborn fool who will not be denied when faced with even the most jaded heart. He and my sister gladly talked me to death until I was made to understand that this happiness was possible.”

Stiles smacked his arm, affronted. “We didn’t talk you to death you ass. We gently and lovingly encouraged you to find joy.”

“Yes dear, with many, many word and letters and a great deal of yelling on Talia’s part I was lovingly encouraged.” He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ knuckles. 

“Well. I-“ John cleared his throat, and Stiles felt tears come to his own eyes at his father’s soft look. “I suppose... I cannot be the one to stand in the way of your happiness. I congratulate you, son. Of course you would get married in the most dramatic and terrifying way possible to your poor family. I expect you will be properly repentant for the trauma you caused the household when you return with us for the wedding." He cleared his throat I think cook was in hysterics by the time we met and there are many very upset ladies who think they have aided in your abduction.”

“That’s fair. I'm sure they will be cheered to hear I haven’t actually been abducted and have managed, despite all odds, to marry quite well indeed.” 

“I’m starting to wonder whether you wanted a husband or a reasonable excuse to flee the country,” Peter complained, the man pouting when Stiles only pet his cheek consolingly. “Very well. We shall, it seems, have to face justice at the hands of an angry mob. But first, I do recommend we impose on my sister’s hospitality for a time, as I am sure your family is in dire need of a rest after their fright.”

"Well, I believe that's as good a cue as any to take this little party off the streets. Come Stilinski's and soon to be Stilinski's and let us go take advantage of our new dear sister in law!" Stiles declared cheerfully, and the group gave a collective sigh. It was of relief though, and there was no objection to the plan. 

"Son, I just need to say," John took his arm, drawing him a little away from their friends and family. Peter let them go with only an understanding smile, knowing the men needed to have a moment together. "I am happy for you. All I have ever wanted was your happiness, and you seem to have found it, even if I wish you could have done so in a more regular and less dramatic fashion." 

Stiles blushed, but nodded his agreement. He had, perhaps, been a little bit over dramatic in his choice of proposal and wedding. 

"Your mother would be happy for you too. You have our blessing, and I hope he gives you everything you desire."

The group headed back towards their transport, each person lighter and exceedingly relieved that their little adventure had somehow managed to end up happily ever after, against all odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I want to say thank you and I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH THISSSS to my giftee. I can only blame bronchitis which delayed the fic until unfortunately, 2020 happened. I hope you still enjoyed it even a little. I feel as if it fought me tooth and nail and I don't know if the quality is up to snuff (its not, my computer deleted the whole ending to this chapter so now the ending is....gah Q - Q) but it is DONE. 
> 
> Love you all, hope you are safe and well xoxoxoxox Until next fic.


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